“I would rather have you remember him alive.” Nikolai slowly unzipped her jeans. The sound of the zipper was loud in the dark stillness of her bedroom. Tears leaked out between Selene’s eyelids, and her sweater was drenched with sweat.
Addicted to this, but I have no choice. I never have a choice. The need would get worse and worse, a tantraiiken’s curse burning through her bones, until she was little more than an animal. She’d gone that far sometimes, when she was young and thought she could rule her own body, at least.
Before she’d learned how to use the curse for her own benefit. And before she’d met him. Since she’d come to Nikolai’s notice, she hadn’t needed to feed her curse in alleys or cheap hotel rooms. Even if she could forget it, he reminded her often enough. She owed him.
Owed, and was owned by. There wasn’t much of a difference where Nichtvren were concerned.
“Nikolai…” It was a long despairing moan. It wouldn’t take long before she started to beg. She’d drained her batteries and worked herself into a frenzy.
He slid his hand into her jeans, settling the heel of his palm against her mound. His fingers slipped down, and made a slight beckoning motion. Selene arched, her breath hissing in. But then, torture of tortures, he stopped.
“Why disobey me?” His breath was warm against her cheek. “Why, Selene? You leave me no choice.”
“Nikolai—” It was all she had left, the pleading. He would give her what she needed, and then she could think again, ponder, consider, plan. But how much would he make her suffer first, and how much of the suffering would she enjoy because of her traitorous body?
He took pity on her then, and made another little beckoning motion with his fingers, and another. He knew exactly what to do. It was all Selene needed, and she cried out, arching, her head tipped back and her entire body shuddering. It was like being dipped in fire, and the relief was instant.
Relief—and fresh need. She would need more. Much more. But now she could think, the first edge of her curse was blunted.
“Nikolai,” she said, when she could speak again. “You were in there, what did you see?” Give me something, you fucking suckhead. Get it, Selene? Fucking suckhead? You’re such a whore.
The image of Danny’s apartment rose in front of her eyes again, and she struggled away from Nikolai’s hand, curling into a ball, pulling her knees up while she hugged herself, making small sobbing sounds like an animal in a trap. Her wet clothes rasped uncomfortably against her skin.
Nikolai sighed again. He sounded frustrated. Good for him.
“Later, dear one. Right now you are in pain.” He sliced her sweater up the back—his claws, extended delicately, not even brushing her skin beneath the wool. Chill air met her wet skin. Then his fingers, skating down the muscles on either side of her spine. His claws were retracted, but she could still feel the strength in his hands. He pushed her hair aside—the elastic band holding her ponytail snapped—and his mouth met her nape. She shivered, curling even more tightly into herself. He stroked her shoulder, touched the two dimples down low at the small of her back.
The first edge of pain was gone, and the burning settled back into a low dull agony. Her Talent wasn’t like others, she had to fuel it with sex. It was the only thing that worked.
But Christ, do I have to let him touch me like this? He’s not human. Can’t he just fuck me and get it over with, leave me alone so I can do what I need to do?
The rest of her ruined sweater was discarded over the side of the bed. He worked her jeans free and tossed them away too, then took her in his arms. His own clothes were gone—how he did that she couldn’t guess, but it probably had something to do with his claws, and the fact that she was too busy trying to gulp down air and fight her body’s need to really pay attention to him.
She was paying for the magick she’d done earlier. No preparation, no patterning—she’d simply dropped her defenses and gone for it, performed a major Work without any thought of the consequences. No wonder she was shaking with need.
Everything has to be paid for. She realized she’d said it out loud. “Everything has to be paid for in magick, Nikolai, everything.”
“Do you think I do not know?” He pushed her onto her back, slid his hand between her legs. She was slick and feverish, damp with need. “Hush. Lie still.”
It took a massive effort to do what he said. It would be quicker if she just let him—if she submitted, if she gave in.
Selene erupted into wild motion, trying to fight him off. He caught her wrists, stretching them above her head, and pinned her to the mattress. She would have been screaming, but his mouth was on hers, catching the scream, killing it. She tried to kick him, straining, but he slid a knee between hers. Then all of his weight, and Selene felt the edges of his hips against the soft insides of her thighs. He was much warmer now, his skin almost scorching hers.
The energetic discharge of sex would feed him, too. That was why a tantraiiken was such a valuable paranormal pet.
Pet? Slave. It was frowned upon, of course, but paranormals and Talents weren’t that tightly policed, even though the laws were almost in effect to give them some protection and codify them. The higher echelons of the human world—the powerbrokers and politicians—knew about the slavery, of course, it was an open secret in some circles. But no newspaper would ever report on it, and no television anchor would ever talk about the things that went on under the blanket of normality. How sometimes, people born with certain Talents were lost to the night side of life.
He found the entrance to her body, thrust in, and his hands tightened around her wrists, the small bones grinding together. Selene gulped back another useless scream, relief spilling through her. His fingers gentled, threaded through hers. He murmured something—maybe it was Russian, she didn’t know, didn’t care, the only thing she cared about was that the agony had stopped. He was in her to the hilt, stretching her, her hips slamming up, silently begging.
He moved, again, and Selene closed her eyes. Pleasure tore through her, a dark screaming pleasure wrapped in barbed wire and dragging hot velvet laceration through tender flesh. Soon enough she would be able to think about grieving.
“Get…it…over…with.” She set her teeth together, even as her hips rocked and her ankles linked together at the small of his back. Her body betrayed her over and over again, that was the worst. Her body was an enemy, a traitor, it didn’t care who he was as long as he had what she needed.
“Oh, no,” he whispered into her ear, then caught her earlobe in his teeth, gently, delicately. A slight nip of razor teeth, and she sucked in a breath. He laughed, a low harsh breath against her cheek. “There are a few hours until morning.”
“I hate you,” she whispered back, even as her body shook and the blind fire took her again. And again.
CHAPTER 5
IN THE END, EXHAUSTED, SHE LAY LIMP AGAINST the bed, hugging a pillow rescued from the floor. Nikolai curled against her back, sweat slicking his skin so it slid against hers. Her entire body sparked pleasantly, and her shields were back up, thick enough to protect her again.
If Danny had been able to shield himself, would he have died? If he’d been able to run away from whatever had battered his door down, maybe he would have survived.
Don’t worry, Danny. Little sister’s on the job. I’ll get whoever did this to you. I promise. The words were a lump behind her breastbone, steel closing around her beating heart. I swear to you, Danny. I’m going to find who did this to you. I’ll do whatever I have to do.